It had started off as a joke. Or at least it was assumed it had been a joke. Why else would Blaise Zabini send his oldest friend a Muggle camera? Yes. A Muggle camera. This contraption would not lend itself to producing the moving photographs all wizards had grown up seeing, small identical images of people they knew waving up at them as if they were alive. What the hell would Draco Malfoy want with a ruddy Muggle camera?
In truth, it was not as if this was a random package that had been sent to him to out of the blue. Draco had an inkling this sort of thing was going to come his way at some point. Unlike most purebloods, Blaise was not against the Muggle world. He found that several things of value could be enjoyed and should not be overlooked. Naturally, Draco thought his childhood friend insane. Muggles were filth. What good could they possibly make that any wizard would want to be a part of? Blaise made sure to give Draco several answers to that question. For a year after their graduation Blaise dragged Draco to all types of Muggle establishments he considered worthy. Everything from fine dining to shoppes and even museums were not omitted from their excursions. Although Draco did enjoy the food and fine material objects, none of this was really different from anything wizards produced. Draco found he actually looked forward to the artist-inspired trips. He found that it was something that had oddly been lacking in his life. The art he most enjoyed was by far from the Modern era. It was not like the paintings or busts in the Manor. These Modernist artworks had a different type of life, color and meaning to them. These were the best parts of his meaningless days.
Sadly his family had been blacklisted soon after Voldemort had fallen along with his Death Eaters. Sad, simply because for the first time in his life Draco felt truly lost and out of place. Though funds had been seized in the name of retribution his family was not exactly hurting for money. What they were lacking now was the prestige they had once garnered among their wizard kind. The Malfoy name was tarnished and as black as the supposed heart of his father. Draco found himself looking at family portraits of the three of them and wondering things that had never popped into his head before. Why am I here? What is the point of my existence? Who cares if I am gone?
That last question could have been answered easily enough. Pansy Parkinson had been annoying the life out of him with letters and pesky questions. She had no idea how to handle Draco in times when he was stressed. Her pestering only served to dig herself a hole and alienate him more. He hated Pansy for that fault. Then he ended up feeling guilty about his hate for her ignorance. Blaise was more astute in guessing his friend's needs. Instead of bombarding Draco with questions Blaise had focused on taking his friend out of the Manor and into participating in something other than self loathing. Thank Merlin for Blaise.
Though Draco found himself questioning Blaise and whatever thoughts roamed in his head when packages showed up with letters attached-letters that informed him, very specifically, what Draco should do with the contents. It was strange, but Blaise had never been an ordinary pureblood wizard, so the camera in its minimally marked packaging with instructions was not a stretch. Draco had to admit there was something alluringly taboo about the Muggle camera. The art and photography books had been one thing. Books were just that, books. They were just pages and the coverings could be changed accordingly. Lucius Malfoy would not go insane over a few books. This... camera however, that was something else entirely. Perhaps it was not just the physical object that seemed more taboo than all the rest. It was what the camera asked him to do. He no longer could simply look. No. He had to create, be proactive.
It was a strange concept for Draco, one he did not take to very well at first. Two days after he received the camera it had sat in a dark corner of his closet where it was sure not to be stumbled upon. After those two days Draco seemed mildly satisfied the Manor was not going to swallow him whole for having the Muggle object. He had yet to actually handle it, and it was only when he was sure everyone in the manor was asleep did he remove the camera from his hiding place and began to investigate what it could actually do, not to mention what he could do with it.
Draco found himself utterly enthralled. He had never had something like this before. All through his childhood and on into his adolescence he had never been a denied boy. His toys had been the best. His clothes the finest. The list really could go on if he chose to think about it. In all his materialistic things he had never had anything that came close to the camera. Over the following weeks, turned months, it became his most treasured possession. He went through rolls and rolls of film and subjected Blaise to mounds and mounds of photographs. Draco refused to even look at the prints. This could have been attributed to fear. Fear that what he was doing was not any good or that staring at his own prints was the final and most absolute admission of his guilt in taking part in Muggle behavior. Either way it was not until Blaise finally convinced Draco to look at his photographs that he realized he was pretty good at it. And why wouldn't he be? He was a Malfoy, after all. They naturally excelled in whatever they had an interest in.
Draco's interest was now invested in photography, so much so that his father had begun to be a bit suspicious, which was only fed by his mother's worry over Draco spending so much time alone. In fact, Draco was so invested in this new endeavor that had brought light back into his life he could not just throw it away for fear of his father's reaction. No. He had to find a way to continue to take his photographs. He couldn't simply quit with a shrug and the thought that it had been an interesting few months. Draco began to devise himself a plan. Firstly, he would need himself a plausible excuse to be out of the manor during the day, an excuse that could be easily followed and kept up. His mother had been on him about finding something to spend his days doing, and knowing that she was a better source for getting around his father than anything else, he employed his best 'oh mother please' face. Narcissa had never been able to deny her only baby boy anything he desired. Had she known exactly what he desired that might have been a different story, but as it was now she assumed he had wanted to get himself a job in the exchange business. Blaise had helped set it up with his uncle Calix, who was in the business already and well respected, so all it needed was her official green light. It was the perfect cover.
He created himself something of a double life. Before now he had never been able to photograph models. The only thing in the Manor had been House Elves, a thought he had promptly scoffed at. All his photographs had been still life. Interesting, but he had to admit, lacking. Now that he could photograph outside of the Manor the problem was remedied. He found himself a flat in Muggle London that was soon turned into a studio. Ads went into the paper asking for models. A strict screening process was to be put into place to ensure none of them could know who Draco was, as that would easily crumble his whole scheme. He also might have just been a bit paranoid too. Weren't artists supposed to be self indulgent, if not eccentric? He told himself yes. Draco Malfoy became Thuban Hawthorn, or, more simply, TH. He was free to take pictures as he wanted now. Through his own process and creative imagination he held two successful shows in six months' time. His last show was just about to be taken down and then it was back to the studio and a new set of models. He never used the same model twice, a personal rule.
This was no joke now. Draco took himself seriously. As seriously as a wizard posing as a Muggle photographer could, anyhow. His newest show idea he hoped would be his best. Or perhaps his most interesting, as it would center around masks. Each model would be given a mask of his own design to wear. Not only that, but their other garments would be nearly nonexistent. The idea was to show that even if you wear a mask to protect your identity, you actually expose yourself more, a deep thought few people who actually knew Draco Malfoy would not have associated him with. Despite what many people thought, he was not all ego and arrogance. The fall of his family had seen to that. It was no use now. The box to his life was open and the Draco Malfoy his friends, or even his enemies, had known was changing into a new person completely.